


Only For Your Very Space

by sohox



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Cuddling, Enemies to Lovers, Intimacy, M/M, awkward tumblr crushes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohox/pseuds/sohox
Summary: Link will admit, only to himself, that he has a full blown tumblr crush his account. He loves it. Like, he loves it so much that he had to make up a rule where he only allows himself a maximum of four likes and two reblogs per day......Most days he’s broken this rule by noon, and tries to struggle through the rest of the day not hitting the like button any more. He routinely breaks this rule because, well, he just can’t help it.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 31
Kudos: 92





	Only For Your Very Space

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short little ficlet and some how morphed into a monster. I promise there is more coming. Most chapters wont be this long. Please comment if you like this, I need to be spurred into writing more. 
> 
> Thank you to all of my tumblr-loves who have read over this and keep encouraging me. You're all amazing and I am grateful for you every single day.

**_[wrhexx-in-effect]:_ **

_ “I don’t know how to be silent when my heart is speaking.” _ _   
_ _ \- Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights _

  
  


Link hits the  _ Like _ button and his heart gives a little flip in his chest. He has been following this particular tumblr blog for a few months now and out of his carefully curated dashboard, it is by far his favorite. He takes another second to reblog the post to his own tumblr page **_[lincolnblogs]_**

He can remember the day that whrexx-in-effect or Rex as he calls them in his head, followed him back. He spent most of that day smiling. He also spent an embarrassing amount of time going back through his posts for the last year and deleted anything that he didn’t think Rex would think was cool. 

They are mutuals now, but they hardly ever interact beyond  _ Likes _ and  _ Reblogs _ . Ever so often, when he’s feeling bold, Link will participate in a “ _ Send Me a Question _ ” ask meme, and he always gets a huge rush when Rex answers him. 

It’s an even bigger thrill when Rex asks a question back. 

Link will admit, only to himself, that he has a full blown tumblr crush on Rex’s account. He  _ loves  _ it. Like, he loves it so much that he had to make up a rule where he only allows himself a maximum of four likes and two reblogs per day. He created this rule in order to prevent himself from looking like an outright stalker, blowing up Rex’s alerts by liking or reblogging every single post. He can’t help it, though. Most days he’s broken this rule by noon, and tries to struggle through the rest of the day not hitting the like button any more. He routinely breaks this rule because, well, he just can’t help it.

It’s especially tempting because sometimes a couple of  _ Likes _ on his end will result in one or two reciprocated from Rex’s end. It’s that little back and forth that has Link addicted. He started to refer to it in his head as  _ baiting.  _ Like Rex is a fish he’s trying to lure in. 

Sometimes, Rex posts a few quotes, some from movies, one or two from songs that Link looks up, adding to the running Spotify playlist he made to keep track of songs that Rex seems to like. The playlist hit fifty songs not too long ago. Link knows almost every one of them by heart. 

So far Link hasn’t found any real clues as to who Rex might be. Link is pretty sure that Rex is a male, and he’s also pretty sure he and Rex are around the same age. Link knows that he and Rex go to school together. He figured this part out because the first time he discovered Rex’s blog, it was in the _ #NCState _ tag. Not only that, but he occasionally reposts local events or parties around campus. 

Sometimes Link goes to these events in an attempt to scope out the attendees. He likes to people watch; it gives him a chance to mingle amongst his peers. And if one day he happens to finally crack the code and discover who Rex is? Well then that will just be an added bonus. 

Occasionally he catches glimpses of people that  _ could _ be Rex. A girl with long dark hair and a pointy nose wearing an obscure band t shirt. A boy with a spiky fauxhawk and extra tight skinny jeans. Sometimes when he suspects someone that could be Rex, he will start humming one of the songs from his playlist to see if they comment. They never do. 

Mostly he just ends up running into the usual classmates he sees all the time. Some of them are okay, there is a built in camaraderie that comes with slogging through the same classes and dealing with the same professors. He even finds it in himself to strike up a conversation to make it seem like he’s  _ not _ just there to stalk his tumblr crush, but usually he just ends up running into the obnoxious kid from his Logic 201 class; the really tall one that always scoffs under his breath when Link tries to provide his own input into the class discussions. It’s a shame, because he would be cute if he wasn’t such a pretentious dick all the time.

If he wasn’t required to take at least one elective for his major, he probably would have dropped that particular class by now, just to get away from that douche. It’s frustrating, and every time it happens it all but ruins Link’s whole day. Link hates feeling like he’s out of his element, and Big Tall Jerk (or BTJ as Link has affectionately coined him) always makes him feel small, both mentally and physically. He’s not small. He’s  _ six feet _ for crying out loud. BTJ has to be at least a good six inches taller. It’s mostly his big head, inflated by his huge ego. 

On Thursday night Link is taking a break from filling in a worksheet due the next day for his drafting class. He’s dicking around on Tumblr, waiting for Rex to post something he can react to. 

Link has already hit his daily stalker-quota when Rex reblogs a post about a local  _ “Men’s cuddle club”.  _ The event is not sponsored by the school, and at first Link thinks it sounds extremely sketchy. He almost didn’t click on the article, but the tiny  _ “sounds kinda cool” _ comment at the bottom of the post leaves him surprisingly curious. 

**_[wrhexx-in-effect]:_ **

_ Cuddle Club - Men’s Group.  _

_ Saturdays from 6pm - 8pm _

_ Rediscover Intimacy in a Safe Space. _

_ 18+ welcome. Refreshments will be served.  _

_ $22.00 _

_ — _

_ sounds kinda cool. _

The web address in the post leads to a well designed website that looks more like it was designed for a day spa than for a weird sex club. The more Link reads about it, the more curious he becomes. He has definitely had a harder time making friends at college than he anticipated despite his best efforts to put himself out there. He seemed to be too flamboyant for the other STEM majors he has met in his classes. At the same time, he seems to be too conservative for the Queer kids he has met on campus. 

He found himself stuck in a weird limbo, never fully at ease with anyone he tried to hang out with. The friends he  _ does  _ have don’t exactly dole out hugs on a regular basis. He can’t remember the last time he actually hugged someone. Maybe his mom before she left him alone in his dorm for the first time that year? If he’s being  _ really  _ honest with himself, he could use a little human intimacy, whichever way he can get it. 

On Friday, he has Logic class again. He’s sitting in his usual seat in the third row from the back, facing inward toward where the professor is leaning against an empty desk. She’s trying to get everyone to participate in a discussion, but most people seem more content to just stare vacantly into space, so the same voices as always seem to fill the echo chamber of the classroom with the same ideas. 

“So, the way I see it,” Link supplies, “if it is raining, the ground is wet. It’s raining today. Therefore the ground is wet today.” 

The professor starts to reply, but of course BJT can’t just leave things alone. “Your argument is too simple. What if there is an umbrella above the ground? Or if the wind is blowing too hard? That’s the trouble with you STEMers. You want to reduce the philosophy of Logic down into  _ math _ for  _ words.  _ It don’t work like that, buddyroll.” 

Link can’t help the way his hands ball up into fists on top of his desk. And even worse, the smirk on BTJ’s face looks so self-satisfied. “Gentlemen,  _ please _ !” Link’s professor steps right up into the center of the class, standing so that they can no longer see each other. “We are all adults here, let us not forget that little fact, okay?” 

Link can feel the tell tale signs of his humiliation blooming over his skin. He can feel his face flaming and he is trembling with anger, both because BTJ is a total pompous dick, but also because he prides himself on being an upstanding college citizen, and he can’t help but feel like this is a blemish on his reputation. 

On Saturday, Link can’t find a single thing to do to occupy his time. It’s only noon and already he has eaten his way through two bags of popcorn and a bag of peanut butter m&ms. He’s already done all of his upcoming homework for the week, and played through four rounds of league of legends with people he doesn’t know. It’s times like this where he almost wishes he had a roommate, if only for the built in buddy system it provides. 

He doesn’t feel like driving all the way home to see his mom. None of his “friends” want to hang out or get lunch; not that he’s even hungry at this point, but hanging out at a diner or in the cafeteria would be more exciting than refreshing his social networks every five seconds. 

Even his tumblr crush is leaving him hanging, Rex has barely posted two things all day. One was a really cool photo taken from under a tree, looking up at the spray of leaves, and how the sunlight filters down through the tiny gaps. 

The other is a reblog of the Cuddle Club post from a few days ago. 

“Huh.” Link thinks to himself. He isn’t sure if Rex is actually going to be there. Then again, he thinks, even if they aren’t, maybe he could just go and check it out anyway. It had to beat sitting around the door room hoping for Rex to pop up. 

Google maps tells him it’s within walking distance, but by the time he gets there, his arms are cold because he forgot his hoodie at his desk and he’s completely out of breath. He goes to pull open the door of the rec building. It turns out it’s a church, which. Okay, Link doesn’t have anything against churches per se, but he is kind of a weird notion. A big group of men cuddling hardly seems church appropriate. 

He stops at the registration desk in the foyer of the building, paying his $22 dollars to an elderly man with white hair growing out of his ears. He hadn’t thought too hard about it before, but now that he’s staring this old man right in his pudgy face, he wonders if  _ this _ is who he’ll be cuddling with. He almost asks for his money back when the old man starts talking. 

“Ah, sonny, I’m glad you decided to join us today. It was lookin’ like there’d be an odd number. Not that it’s never happened before but…” he trailed off, leaning in toward Link conspiratorially. “Sometimes it can get awkward if three people have to buddy up. Three’s a crowd, and someone always gets left out. You round it out nicely.” 

Link feels like there might be a joke there, about rounding things out, but the man’s face is incredibly sincere, and if he did mean it in a pervy way, he had a damn good poker face about it. 

The old man hands him a name tag and he uses a black sharpie to write _ Link  _ on it before following the instructions to move further into the building. 

“You got refreshments along the south wall and I would  _ highly _ recommend going to the bathroom before they get started.”

Link takes the old man’s advice, popping into the bathroom to relieve himself and to splash some cold water on his face. His skin is warm, both from the walk over and also the low grade embarrassment he feels at being here in the first place. Even if he did run into Rex here, he wouldn’t want his crush to see him like  _ this _ . 

“Freakin pathetic.” He says out loud, as he’s drying his face with a paper towel. 

Just as the words escaped his mouth the door swung open, and another participant walked in.

“Glad you’re finally gettin’ around to admitting it,  _ buddyroll.”  _

He looks up into the mirror, and of fucking course, it had to be BTJ. 

The taller kid passes by him with a smirk and ducks into one of the stalls. Link just stands there, stunned for a good thirty seconds before he bolts out of the bathroom. He’s making a bee line for the front door, his registration fee be damned, when a tall man in what looks like silk pajamas steps in front of him, his hand hovering over Link’s shoulder as if to guide him, but not quite touching. 

“This way, my young friend, we are all gathering in the center for Salutations. I will be your cuddle guide, Samson. You may call me Samson, or cuddle guide. That is for you to choose.” 

The Cuddle guide leads him over to where a large group of men are all standing in the middle of the now dimly lit room. There is a soft glow of fake candles flickering, and the group is surrounded by a ring of huge overly stuffed bean bag chairs and large throw pillows. Samson hits play on his phone, triggering a wave of soothing music to start playing. It’s almost romantic, how the candles are flickering over the expectant faces of those gathered and waiting. 

Link feels cornered and honestly, he also feels a little guilty about trying to leave. He can do this. He  _ wants _ to do this. He’ll just have to avoid BTJ at all costs. 

Samson starts explaining the process to them in a voice that is both soft enough to sound comforting, but loud enough to reach every corner of the room. The beat of the music continues to pulse around them and he instructs everyone to start milling around. 

“There is no need for talking yet, just let your body lead you. It will find its own course, you just need to let your instincts be your guide.” He encourages them to let their bodies brush against each other, not to shy away if their arm or hand grazes someone else’s form. “Don’t be afraid to lock eyes with your fellow wanderers as they approach, try not to look away, just bask in the intimacy of seeing and being seen.”

Link does his best to try to lose himself in the exercise. Sometimes a rough elbow would catch the skin of his forearm, and one man let his hand graze his hip. All in all it wasn’t horrible. No one was trying to grab him, like he had feared. The warm feeling of soft touches on his  shoulders felt better than he had expected. 

There were two moments when BTJ passed by him. The first time their arms brushed Link recoiled hard enough that he almost fell into another wanderer. The man he fell into had strong arms and helped him steady himself on his feet. The second time, he was expecting it. He didn’t recoil, but it definitely felt like BTJ pushed against him a little harder than necessary. 

After a while the beat of the music slows to something a bit more calming. Samson he tells them to close their eyes, listen to their heartbeats, and feel the warm energy emanating from the crowd. Link is trying to hone in on his own heart beat, but he’s also trying to figure out where BTJ ended up. He wants to be sure he stays as far away from him as he can. 

“Keep your eyes closed, but don’t force them. Just let your body slip into a natural restful state. You are all safe and respected here.” Samson’s voice really is like a soothing balm to his nerves. He finds himself listening, letting his eyes fall gently shut. 

“I want you to move toward the sound of my voice.” Samson instructed them. ”Let your senses pull you in toward the center of the room, do not stop until your body finds that of another wanderer. Remember, eyes closed.” 

Link follows the order, trying not to trip over his own two feet as he shuffles toward Samson’s voice. He feels his shoulder make contact with someone else’s chest, so he stops, but he doesn’t open his eyes. 

“One you’ve found a partner, lift your hands in front of you until you find their hands. Soft touches now, there’s no need to grab. This is just to help us orient ourselves toward each other.” 

The person in front of him finds his wrist, touching gently, lifting Links hand up until it’s directly in front of him. They then do the same thing to his other hand. Once they’re both positioned in front of him, just beyond his own chest, his partner places their hands against his, palm to palm. Whoever his partner is, it seems they know what they’re doing. It’s a bit of a relief, because Link is still feeling a little out of his element. 

“Take this opportunity to introduce your energy to that of your partner’s. Use your hands to stroke their arms, their shoulders and elbows. Learn the dips and curves of their muscles. Remember, this is all about respectful touches. So make sure you stay above the belt.” There are a few snickers around the room. 

Link and his partner follow the instructions. His partner trails his fingers down Link’s palm, thumbs grazing over his wrists. His partner guides one of Link’s hands up to his shoulder, while his other hand glides down Link’s tricep, fingers skimming over his elbow. Link let’s his fingers flex against his partner’s shoulder. It seems really high, Link thinks, a little alarmed. Link himself is a tall person, but this person’s shoulder is a bit of a reach. Link is so tempted to open his eyes, but he is also terrified. He just knows that when he finally does open them, it’s going to be BTJ. 

The music slows down to an even more calming beat. “Now, my wanderers, I invite you to open your eyes and greet your new friend.” Link lets his eyes open slowly. He blinks a few times to adjust to the dim glow of the candles. His eyes drift upward and he’s met with the smirking bearded face of BJT, who’s name tag reads  _ Rhett  _ in sharp jagged letters. 

Link would’ve stumbled backward if it weren’t for the fact that BTJ, or Rhett it seemed, wasn't still holding his elbow in one large hand. For the third time that night he considers leaving. “no freakin way,” he hisses and tries to pull his arm out of Rhett’s grasp. 

“Hey, stop, c’mon.” Rhett’s voice is just as soft, hushed. The other patrons around him are starting to find their way toward the lounge areas. Rhett tugs at his elbow, guiding him over toward one of the large bean bags. 

Link is still trying to detach Rhett’s hand from his arm, but Rhett doesn’t let him. His grip on Link’s elbow is firm but gentle. “C’mon man. Don’t mess this up for me. There aren’t enough people tonight.” He pauses, voice dropping, soft and sincere. “I really need this.” Link feels his shoulders slump in acquiescence. Against his better judgment he nods, and surprisingly, a small smile flits across Rhett’s face. Links stomach does a weird swooping thing. He’s never felt that before. 

“Alright, now you will each join your partner in a caring embrace.” Samson says. He instructs each pair to find a space to rest. “This works best if the larger partner reclines first. As the smaller partner, you will drape yourself around their body.” Rhett reclines back into the overstuffed bean bag and he nervously rubs his palms over his jeans covered thighs, looking up at Link expectantly. 

Link stands there, staring down at Rhett, but he can’t quite meet his eyes. This is all too surreal. He had hoped he’d meet his tumblr crush here, but no, now he’s being partnered up with his arch nemesis? He feels hot all over. 

Samson comes up behind him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Go on, my young friend.” He waves his hand toward Rhett, urging Link to settle into the bean bag alongside Him. 

“I...uh, I don’t know what to do, this is my first time here.” Link stammers. 

“Well, Rhett is a great partner to have. He’s very gentle, and he has excellent instincts. He’ll be able to guide you through it.”

Link looks at Rhett’s face and the tall asshole shoots him a smirk, one eyebrow quirked up as he waits. Link breathes out a little huff of air and sinks down to his knees, crawling into the bean bag as well. He settles in, hip to hip, nestled underneath Rhett’s extended arm. It’s...awkward. It’s all jutting elbows and bony hips, and it’s not the comforting and relaxing feeling that he was promised. 

“Look, I need you to trust me, okay?” Rhett whispers, trying not to draw any attention to them. Link lets out a tiny scoff, but then nods. Rhett’s clearly done this more than he has. He reaches over and places a large hand under Link’s knee, pulling at his limbs until his legs are swung over Rhett’s, and he’s practically in Rhett’s lap. He brings his arm around Link’s back, a firm hand settling between his shoulder blades and presses him closer. 

His hand feels heavy and  _ so _ warm. The heat sinks through the thin material of Link’s shirt, and it radiates all the way up to his neck. Rhett shifts his hips a little bit, settling further into the cushion, and suddenly it’s like they click into place and Link practically melts into Rhett’s body. “Better?” 

Link has to gently clear his throat before softly saying “Yeah, uh... better.” 

“You’re still really tense, just relax.” Rhett whispers; his voice is so close, Link can feel his breath on his forehead. Rhett’s free hand finds Link’s arm, carefully unclenches the fist that Link hadn’t realized he was making, and lays his now open palm on Rhett’s chest. He can feel the “ba _ thump,  _ ba _ thump”  _ of his heartbeat through the layer of Rhett’s t shirt.

Link nods and tries to release the tension from his shoulders. He’s trying to calm the thoughts racing through his head. “ _ What does this mean come Monday, will we still be at each other’s throats _ ?” The hand on his shoulder blade travels up further to the back of his neck, and then Rhett’s fingers are carding through the hair along the nape of his neck, occasionally twirling the shaggy locks or letting his short nails drag softly along his scalp and behind his ear. Link focuses every bit of his attention there and before he knows it, his mind has settled into a soft rhythm of white noise. He stares blankly at his hand on Rhett’s chest, watches thumb trace circles against the cloth, feeling the heft of his broad chest as his breath rises and falls. Rhett sighs in what might be contentment. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s feeling completely weightless, the tension melted entirely from his body. His nose is tucked up against Rhett’s neck, mouth incredibly close to his pulse point. The temptation is strong to press his lips to the warm smelling skin, but he resists with all his might. Rhett must sense the tension when the thought comes along, because he tightens his grip, fingers tugging just a little harder on his hair, his other hand moving from its place on Link’s knee, over to his torso, moving it slowly up and down in a soothing wave, fingers dipping into each crevice of his rib cage. 

Link can’t help the tiny little hum that escapes his lips, and hopes that the soothing music drowns it out from the other patrons. It didn’t stop Rhett from hearing it though. He chuckles softly, and the vibration ripples through Link’s entire being. He can feel it everywhere, sparking goosebumps all over his arms, along the back of his neck. It feels incredible. 

“Like that, huh?” Rhett asks, holding Link even tighter against him. 

Link can’t quite describe the feeling that’s building in his stomach, other than warm, and  _ perfect _ . He can’t really remember the last time he was so close to someone. The last time he felt so small and so cared for. The fact that it’s his arch enemy is almost more than he can bear but he promises himself he’ll worry about it later, but for now he’s going to enjoy the rest of his time here. Safe and small, in Rhett’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for liking, commenting and subscribing! You know what time it is!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ soho-x.tumblr.com


End file.
